


Do what you like (just don't put me away wet)

by shiverelectric



Category: Inception
Genre: M/M, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiverelectric/pseuds/shiverelectric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>They haven't seen each other in months and have a desperate 'I missed you' fuck. But Arthur is so exhausted from a job, he passes out after he comes. Eames doesn't stop.</p><p>Fill for a prompt at inception_kink.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Do what you like (just don't put me away wet)

**Author's Note:**

> They haven't seen each other in months and have a desperate 'I missed you' fuck. But Arthur is so exhausted from a job, he passes out after he comes. Eames doesn't stop.
> 
> Fill for a prompt at inception_kink.

"How long--has it been?" Eames grunts out between hard, bruising kisses to Arthur's neck.

"Too fucking long," Arthur replies in a low husky voice, hands moving over Eames' clothing but without their usual deftness. Eames knows he's tired, but they've not seen each other for five months and nothing was stopping them from placing hands and mouths and tongues and more to each other's skin so flushed with need.

He takes his hands from Arthur to undo his pants, somewhat reluctantly, but the sooner he's undressed the better. Arthur follows suit, stepping backwards blindly towards the hotel bed, hands pulling his button down out of his trousers and up over his head, proper undressing be damned.

"Come on, Eames," he urges as he undoes his pants and lets them drop to the floor. In just his socks and those ridiculously sexy sock garters, he falls to the bed, spread open and waiting.

Eames groans deep in his throat at the sight of Arthur laid out on the bed, like a dream just for him, and nearly throws himself on top of the point man, not that he couldn't take it if he did. He captures his mouth again, sucking hard on his bottom lip already kiss-swollen.

"Fuck, Arthur," he says when the other man rolls his hips upwards, hard cock sliding against Eames' matching one.

He could do this for hours or at least the minutes he would last rutting against Arthur this way, but he's wanted the taste of that cock and come for far too long. So he slides down the too hot, so hard body beneath him, to Arthur's annoyed huff at loss of contact, which turns into a strangled sort of moan when Eames wraps his lips around him.

"Goddammit, Eames, _fuck_ , I'm--" Arthur groans after mere moments, shooting hotly down Eames' throat. Eames doesn't blame him, he's as close to coming without even touching himself as he's ever been in his life.

He can, however, feel a bit put out when he looks up and sees that Arthur has completely passed out.

"Hmm, I suppose I could chalk that up to my skill," he says as he crawls back up on the bed and, laying beside the sleeping Arthur, traces the curve of his slightly open mouth with a thumb. "But you were exhausted, weren't you?"

He expects no answer from the dozing man, though he does murmur something incomprehensible and practically _nuzzles_ into Eames' palm. He smiles to himself as he runs his other hand up and down the expanse of Arthur's body, still fully aware that _he_ has not yet reached a stage of similar sweet release.

Leaning in, he whispers along the shell of Arthur's ear, "You wouldn't mind, would you, darling?"

No reply, but Arthur does roll over onto his side, head pillowed by his hands, back hot along Eames' front. "I didn't think so," and Eames wets two fingers in his own mouth, then brings them down to Arthur's firm ass, slipping between his cheeks to prod gently at his hole.

The first goes in without resistance, and after a moment the second joins in. Eames' breathing increases and he closes his eyes as he stretches the body so open, so pliant in his hands. He places a kiss to the top of Arthur's spine as he withdraws his fingers, then spits in his hand to slick himself up.

"God, Arthur, even dead asleep, the things you do to me," he whispers almost brokenly as he aligns with Arthur and presses and slides into his tight, welcoming heat.

He wraps an arm around Arthur, lacing their fingers together as he picks a rhythm and increases pace. Arthur's so warm, around him and beneath him, and Eames swears to god that he imagines Arthur's hips pressing back to meet each of his thrusts and with that thought in his head he comes in the other man.

"Jesus fuck, Arthur," Eames breathes, forehead resting heavily on the back of Arthur's neck. He pulls out slowly, still somewhat hard but not at all as fervent about getting off. Arthur snores lightly as Eames reaches down and gently cleans him with a tissue. For all Arthur's skill as a point man, he slept surprisingly soundly after sex.

With the both of them cleaned up, Eames pulls the covers up around them as he lays against Arthur's back. He passes a hand through Arthur's hair, smoothing it a bit from how much they'd disheveled it, and hums with pleasure as he settles with an arm around Arthur.

But his body still wants more, or at the very least is still too damn excited to have the point man so close again, so he just rocks slowly against him, slipping along the cleft of Arthur's ass. He plans to just do this until he drifts off, a pleasant sensation to lull him into sleep.

But there it is again, Arthur pressing back into him, and this time Eames even _hears_ a small moan break free from his throat.

"Oh, god," Eames gasps as they move together in the dark. Even asleep, Arthur wants Eames and that, _that_ is too much for Eames to take and it nearly surprises him when he comes all over his belly and Arthur's back.

Eames rolls onto his back, feeling like it would take forever for him to get his breath back. After several minutes he reaches for the tissues, not that it matters because he's already made the sheets wet, come sticking from his stomach and cock to the fabric. "Bloody hell," he murmurs, cleaning them up again.

Arthur stirs slightly when Eames touches him, then mumbles out, "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames," and curls closer into his pillow.

Eames laughs quietly as he resettles along Arthur and into his own sweet sleep.


End file.
